


True North (Working Title - it may change)

by Llyon



Category: Blindspot (TV)
Genre: Blindspot S1E7 Sent on Tour, Gen, various POV
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-04-29 20:03:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5140775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llyon/pseuds/Llyon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blindspot S1E7 (Sent on Tour) introspection from the different team members. Each chapter addresses a different point of view. (I saved Jane and Weller for last because I love those two cupcakes!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. True North (Edgar Reade)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blindspot S1E7: Sent on Tour - scenes from Reade's point of view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea where this is going. I was working on an original piece that didn't reference Blindspot episodes nearly as much. Still, Reade decided that he had something to say about their adventures last night and who am I to argue with my new favorite Hufflepuff?
> 
> I do not know if there will be more. I'm going to say "why not" and indicate that this is only the first chapter. Because I want more Blindspot fanfics. I am waiting for more Blindspot fanfics. I NEED more Blindspot fanfics (and I might as well do my very humble part).

Aw, hell. Reade knew exactly what Weller was doing, although it looked like Jane didn’t. Weller and Zapata would lead the hunters away, effectively making his task of leading Jane and Guerrero back to civilization more possible and certainly much safer.

More than trying to protect her, though, Weller was throwing Reade and Jane together to force them to find a way to work cooperatively. Joy.

In retrospect, he should have expected something like this. He’d been vocal in his discomfort with having Jane involved in her own case. Since Weller showed no signs of backing down – no surprise there – the only choice for the lead agent to make was to force Reade into situations where he had to work with Jane or suffer the consequences.

And really, when the consequences involved potential death, Reade couldn’t do anything but comply.

Damn it.

Here they were, booking it through the woods of Michigan, and Reade was shouldering a majority of the burden. By virtue of being an agent, he was the one who was in charge. If anything happened to Jane, he would answer to Weller. Worse, if Guerrero escaped, Reade would have bigger problems than an irate lead agent.

This officially sucked.

It hurt, just the slightest bit, to admit how much Jane was contributing to their little adventure. Brief moments of uncertainty notwithstanding, Jane seemed incredibly at home navigating through the woods and her faith in the trustworthiness of her tattoos was virtually unshakeable.

Well, Reade supposed, Jane didn’t have many alternatives in which to place her trust.

If Guerrero didn’t shut up soon, though, Reade was going to have to take drastic action. The man was profoundly irritating. It shouldn’t have been a surprise that Jane could ignore Guerrero’s crass comment when she dropped her pants to access the tattoo on the back of her calf. How many weeks had she spent with everyone and their brother at the FBI looking at images of every last one of her tattoos? Even less of surprise was what ended up being the tender spot in Jane’s defenses. Now Guerrero knew just how to needle her, and the attacks had become relentless. It didn’t help that Reade could definitely relate to Jane’s distress, for all that he was able to mask his reactions more effectively.

“I suppose it doesn’t really matter since by now they’re probably dead.” Guerrero was taunting. A painful thought that Reade was doing his best to ignore. Weller was smart and seemed to think at light speed whenever he found himself in the tightest of spots. Zapata was no slouch either. Between the two of them, they probably could handle most of what the local militia was throwing at them.

Probably.

If only Jane could just find a way to not react! That would helpful. But, oh no. Every word Guerrero spoke clearly stung.

“They’re alive.” Jane was grave. Reade thought that her certainty sounded forced.

“I saw the look on your face when Kurt didn’t pick you to go with him.” Guerrero’s mocking laughter grated even more than his incessant chatter. “Actually, I hope he’s still alive. That way, you can watch while I cut off his head. I’ll be sure to do it nice and slow.”

Don’t react, Jane. Don’t do it. Just. Don’t.

Hell.

The look on Jane’s face could not mean anything good. In a smooth, swift move she brought the butt of her gun up and tapped Guerrero in the face.

“Jane! JANE!” Reade was trying to figure out how to talk her down. It would be no good if she killed Guerrero – no matter how much he might deserve it. Of course, the blow was restrained – all things considered – but now she was aiming her weapon at the gang lord.

“You need me alive!” Guerrero protested.

“The FBI needs you alive.” Jane was not at all subtle as she implied that _she_ had no need for Guerrero to arrive, still breathing and mostly unbroken, back at headquarters.

“Hey, hey, all right. That’s enough.” Reade needed to regain control of the situation. As satisfying as it had been to watch Jane hit Guerrero, Edgar had a duty to perform and allowing Jane to lose control was not a part of it. “Calm down, okay? Go take a walk. I’ll pretend I didn’t see anything.”

In acknowledgement of his words, Jane’s cold-eye glare met Reade’s worried look. “He’s alive.” She said simply, stubbornly. Reade felt a little sick at the expression on her face as she turned and walked away. She needed to believe in Weller’s continued well-being as much as Reade did. For the first time, Edgar considered what Weller meant to this woman. As much as he worried that she clearly had Weller wrapped around her little finger, could get him to bend…to compromise…in ways Reade had never seen before, Edgar wondered at their connection. She needed Weller in ways that Reade couldn’t define. He’d seen her – more than once – looking at Kurt like he was her true north. What would happen to her if Weller wasn’t there? If Kurt died?

Reade suspected that he wouldn’t like the bloody aftermath should the unthinkable come to pass.

Weller, he thought, you sure as hell better be alive. Jane needs you. We all need you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have any suggestions as to who should speak up in the next chapter - let me know. I can't promise that the characters will cooperate, but I will try my hand at diplomacy to negotiate with them. :)


	2. Magnetic Declination (Tasha Zapata)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blindspot: S1E7 Sent on Tour - Scenes from Zapata's point of view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was an exercise in trying to find Zapata's voice. I think it could be tweaked some more. I wanted to post it now, though, so I can work on the next chapter (Jane!) without feeling guilty.

_blindspotblindspotblindspotblindspotblindspotblindspotblindspotblindspot_

"I'll go, too." Zapata volunteered

"Take me with you," Jane said a beat behind the other woman's offer.

Zapata was surprised that Weller almost immediately chose to leave Jane behind. Since he'd been given Jane's case (by virtue of his name being tattooed on her back), Weller had been keeping the amnesiac close. If the team split up to cover more ground, Weller inevitably picked Jane to accompany him. Since Jane was well able to handle herself in combat situations - had proved her skills time and again - Weller's choice didn't bother Tash as much as it seemed to annoy Reade. It helped that Tash knew her value to the team. Jane was an FBI asset who brought strange and dangerous intel into the mix, but Zapata was a trained and experienced agent. Weller knew her strengths and never hesitated to call on her expertise when it was needed. At this particular moment, either woman could provide tactical support. In fact, Tasha could admit that Jane was probably the better choice. Whoever had trained Jane, they'd done a thorough job. In combat situations, Jane was a knife, honed razor-sharp. So, why did Weller chose Tasha over her?

Not that Zapata had to think hard about the answer. Anyone who knew Weller, who had seen him interact with Jane, would recognize that he lacked objectivity as far as she was concerned, and that influenced his decisions. Weller created the plan to lead the militia away in a heartbeat. Was it dangerous? Yes, but it was also the best, reasonable option to get the majority of them out alive. Not quite a suicide mission, but with higher risk of things going all to hell (as though they hadn't reached hell already. Could things really get worse?). Then he decided to minimize the peril Jane faced by leaving her behind as he led the hunters away.

Not the worst choice, but certainly not the most objective.

Maybe Jane - given a chance to think about it - would be able to understand Kurt's motivations. Right now, though, Tash clearly saw how the rejection stung. Jane didn't want to be safe. She wanted to be in a position where she could protect Weller.

Zapata was beginning to think that Jane might be as big of a control freak as Weller was. Both idiots were willing to expose themselves to serious risk to protect others - as though they were more capable than anyone else of saving the day or that they were somehow invulnerable to damage.

Or, maybe, they just saw the value of their lives as less than others, saw themselves as expendable.

That was something for professionals - like Borden - to determine. Right now, Zapata needed to know if Weller had any clue as to how compromised his thought processes were by the connection he had with Jane, with the emotion that Kurt generally locked down behind those walls of his.

_blindspotblindspotblindspotblindspotblindspotblindspotblindspotblindspotblindspot_

"You volunteered for it." Weller shot her his version of a teasing grin - barely noticeable except to those who knew him.

The opening was a inadvertent gift. "So did Jane," Zapata shot back.

Weller heard the challenge in her voice, the question that she left unasked. "I trust your training," he offered. "Jane's still a wild card."

Zapata rolled her eyes. Since Weller wasn't stupid, he'd have rationalized his decision. He even made it sound like he believed the crap he was spewing. And, yeah, he had a point. Both Tasha and Kurt had the same FBI sanctioned training. More than that, they'd spent enough time as teammates to know the other's rhythm. That hadn't stopped him from trusting Jane in the field before, and there was no real reason why it should have stopped him now.

"Is that really why I'm here and she's not?" Tash knew that this wasn't really the time or place to confront Weller, but what the hell. It wasn't like it was easy to get the man alone to have a heart to heart.

"You got something to say, just say it." His voice was sharper now, daring her to continue. He had to know that she wasn't going to back down. When had she ever backed down when there was something that needed to be said?

"You're protecting her." And wasn't that typical macho man? What more did Jane have to do to prove her skills? She certainly wouldn't thank Weller for trying to protect her. It was male B.S., thinking that he could - and should - try to protect a woman. Zapata stopped, needing to watch Weller's reactions as she asked, "She's more than just an FBI asset to you."

Oh, the look he gave her! Defiance, discomfort, and maybe just a hint of fear. God, this freakin' mouth-breather! Wetting himself at the thought of talking about emotions.

"It is one thing if you won't admit it. It is something else if you don't even know it." There was no way she was going to try to fish for more information. He'd freeze her out in a heart beat and refuse to even admit they'd had this conversation. Better to let him think about what she said. Maybe he'd get his head out of his ass and figure out how to handle his relationship with Jane. It would be better than the tension spilling out all over the office the way it had been - on and off - for the past couple of days.

_blindspotblindspotblindspotblindspotblindspotblindspotblindspotblindspotblindspot_

They were pacing themselves on their run back to the rendezvous point when the first echoes of gunfire reached their ears. Without a word, both increased their speed, sprinting now. They allowed the sound to guide them, rather than stopping to refer to the photo of the map that Zapata had taken at the old sheriff's station. Thankfully, they weren't too far away and just over five minutes later, they had a couple of hostiles in their sights.

And Jane. The militia were aiming for the cabin, and Jane was outside, nibbling away at the numbers of the opposing force.

So much for keeping Jane safe, eh, Weller?

Tasha caught a glimpse of Jane's face when the woman realized that the cavalry had arrived. Her smile was small, but something about her whole being shifted, lightened, when she verified that the new players were - in fact - Weller and Zapata.

That wasn't entirely accurate, Tash mentally corrected herself. Kurt was really the only one Jane had focused on. Oh, sure, Jane was probably relieved that both agents were alive and well (and providing much needed reinforcements), but (much like Weller did with Jane - whether he wanted to admit it or not) Jane always oriented herself to him. It was like the two were magnets - sometimes inexplicably pushing away from each other, but give them a little flip and _boom_ : a connection that make everyone else feel excluded, superfluous.

There was no time to dwell on her quicksilver conclusions. Zapata worked her way around the back of the cabin to make sure that there were no unpleasant surprises. Too late she felt the presence behind her. Even as she turned, her gun was knocked to the ground. As she struggled to keep a hold of the weapon, the militia man got a hold of her.

Damn it.

The guy was well trained, she'd give him that. She struggled unsuccessfully to find leverage to work her way out of his grasp. He dragged her around to face Weller and the team. Reade was there, looking unharmed, thank god, with his weapon trained on Guerrero, even as Guerrero ordered her captor to just shoot her already. Bastard.

This was not going to end well. Zapata's mind was racing, trying to come up with something - ANYTHING - that might distract the guy. Maybe she wouldn't get out of this unharmed, but she had to try to at least get out of it alive.

Before she could formulate a plan, there was more gunfire. She flinched and found herself...free.

Not waiting around, she ran for cover behind her armed teammates as Sheriff Bolton came cautiously into view. It didn't surprise her to have confirmation that he was a part of the militia. What was shocking was how he stood up to Guerrero. She rolled her eyes as he encouraged them to leave as quickly as possible.

"Like we haven't been trying to do that all day." She complained.

"We haven't tried the helicopter." Reade said, all too casually.

Tash turned to stare at him. "Helicopter?" She demanded.

Reade smirked.

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still looking for Zapata's voice. Thank you for your patience as I try new things.


	3. Adjustment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blindspot S1E7: Sent on Tour - Scenes from Jane's point of view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, everyone who has stuck with me. I still consider this to be a writing exercise for me. I rely heavily on dialogue and actions from S1E7: Sent on Tour, so I cannot take credit for a lot of the wit and worry in this chapter.
> 
> All errors are mine alone. I don't have the heart - right now - to hold this chapter back any longer. I will probably come back to review it (AGAIN!) and make any necessary corrections. If you notice any glaringly obvious ones, please don't hesitate to let me know.
> 
> I do not own any part of Blindspot. I am making no money off of this. Please don't sue.
> 
> I am distressed to admit that, despite what she told Weller on the plane ride home, there is no mention of her thinking of Taylor Shaw. I'm not sure what I'm going to do about that. But you all have waited long enough for an update, and I can't look at this chapter any more without unraveling EVERYTHING I have written. This is a warning: Edits and changes may happen down the road. But not today.

_blindspotblindspotblindspotblindspotblindspotblindspotblindspotblindspot_

She admitted to Weller that the field was the only place where she felt comfortable. Combat situations meant chaos, but being in the field cropped her focus to what was most important:

\- Protect your team.

\- Complete the mission.

Jane took the second seriously, but the first? It was like breathing. It wasn't a temporary thing. It wasn't something that punched a clock, that started and stopped, that took time off. Sure, vigilance had to ebb and surge as the situation warranted, but there was at least a small part of her brain that was always - ALWAYS - monitoring the body language of her teammates, getting a sense of any strangers in the vicinity, and waiting to observe any little anomaly that might signal danger.

She was struck, at times, by how pathological the constant urge to protect seemed. At least, seemed to her. She'd tried to discuss it with Dr. Borden, but he'd only commented that it was a human compulsion to be a part of a group. It was perfectly natural that she would start to identify those individuals she saw most often as her group.

Jane knew it was more than that. She hadn't pushed back against his explanation, even though she could have. Could have told him how - feeling the constant weight of knowing that the team was depending on her to do her job - made her willing to fight, willing to kill.

Normal people didn't think like that. Probably.

When she stopped to really examine these thoughts, when the silence in her apartment was too loud, she felt a little sick to realize how easy it was to slip into that role, how comfortable it felt to become this violent, detached...thing.

She felt her stomach twist now. She had Guerrero in her sights. He was a threat to Weller...well, to the team, but killing him wouldn't change the danger that Weller and Zapata currently faced. She could pull the trigger, eliminate this potential threat, but Reade was telling her to take a walk. Fine. She'd stand down...for now.

But everyone needed to be absolutely clear on one thing. Jane turned a steely-eyed gaze to Reade and said in a razor-edged tone, "he's alive."

She started walking, but didn't pull too far ahead. She had to hear immediately if Reade needed backup.

There were millions of things she didn't know and couldn't control, but she couldn't focus on that. She had to complete the mission. She had to protect her team.

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She was feeling slightly optimistic. Her tattoos had led them to a helicopter. A helicopter! As soon as they found Zapata and Weller, they could get the hell out of Draclyn.

There was never any question for Jane that they needed to reunited with their missing teammates before they retreated to safety (and forever crossed Draclyn, Michigan off her list of fantastic vacation destinations to see before she died).

She had to rescue Reade from Guerrero's talk soon. Reade had tried to be more of a buffer since Jane had lost it earlier, but it was taking a toll on the man.

"You blew it." Guerrero taunted. "You had a chance to get out and you came back for your friends."

That didn't even deserve a response. Of course they'd come back. She couldn't understand how people like Guerrero dismissed loyalty like it was nothing.

"Is that what this is about? You never had any friends?" Yeah, there was a dangerous edge creeping into Reade's voice. Time for her to take her turn dealing with this cockroach.

"Think they'd do the same for you?" There was a world of scorn in Guerrero's voice.

"I know they would." Jane didn't even have to think about it. She knew it. Weller - who was still punishing himself for the loss of his friend twenty-five years earlier - had built a team that was a solid and strong as he was. He'd never leave a man behind, and that meant they'd never leave a man behind.

"Oh, really," he scoffed. "You really think you can trust them?" His tone made it clear that he wouldn't, but then, Guerrero probably didn't truly trust anyone. "The F.B.I? They're using you. You're just a map for them to follow," he insisted, as though revealing a profound truth that had somehow escaped her notice.

Of course the F.B.I. was using her. But wasn't she relying on them as well? They were searching for answers for her. More than that, they had given her a purpose - a gift like water to a woman who was crossing a desert. The moment they decided to let her be armed, in the field, following the tattoos to dark and dangerous places that needed the team to come and do good she had received something unspeakably precious.

"You don't know what you're talking about." Because this truth was complicated.

"I know your name's not Jane. I know you don't know what your tattoos mean or who gave them to you. And I know I'm not the only prisoner on this little hike today." The criminal smirked.

Prisoner? His words echoed thoughts that plagued Jane with greater frequency as the days went by. She wasn't exactly a prisoner, but she wasn't free, either. Until she had more of herself back, though, she couldn't see how to change the situation.

"It's over, Guerrero." Jane noticed that Reade was sending worried glances her way. "You can't talk your way out of this one. Sooner or later we all face what we've done."

Before the criminal could reply all hell broke loose. The militia had caught up to them. One of their shots caught Guerrero in the arm and the shock of pain dropped him to the ground. Jane started firing as Reade hauled Guerrero back to his feet so the three of them could make a dash to the station. Once inside, Reade and Jane worked to barricade the doors while Guerrero sagged against the desk. When Jane was finished doing what she could to block the door, she turned her attention to Guerrero's wound. He didn't jerk away, but he did protest, "I told you, you care too much." Since he was on the receiving end of that care, Jane thought that the bastard could be a little more grateful.

"How many of them are out there," she demanded.

"I want to say all of them." Reade complained.

Finished with the makeshift bandage, Jane joined Reade at the windows. Together they took shots as they could, but the odds didn't look good. "Weller and Zapata have been out there a long time." Reade called over to her.

Maybe it was a warning that Jane shouldn't expect to see them again, ever. She didn't bother to respond, and thoughts of Weller and Zapata were driven out of her head when Reade gave a cry of pain. "Reade!" Jane's attention was now divided between shooting and her partner. "Reade!" She demanded again. "Are you all right?"

It was a relief to hear him gasp out, "Ah, I'm good. I'll live. Got me in the plates."

The station was hit by a sudden barrage and Jane had to shift her focus back to picking off the hostiles as they tried to approach the building. She heard Reade snarkily inquire of Guerrero, "they do know you're in here, right?" That was good. He was hurt, but not bad, not if he could still mouth off.

"They're very enthusiastic," Guerrero defended half-heartedly.

They were getting no where, trying to hold their ground. They were out-manned, out-gunned. It was time to go on the offensive.

"How," Jane yelled over to Reade, "do you feel about holding down the fort?"

"Jane, you can't go back out there," he protested.

Not what she asked, but she explained her thinking. "I can run a flight, cut down the guys with heavy guns." Dangerous yes, but if Jane had to choose between watching the militiamen slowly break through to kill them in the cabin or taking this risk that could save their lives, she knew how she'd gamble. "It's our only shot," she insisted.

"Weller and Zapata aren't coming," he warned, wanting her to know that she wouldn't have more backup than what he could provide from inside.

"They're coming!" Why was everyone so hung up on believing that Weller and Zapata had already met their deaths. Fucking pessimists.

Jane didn't wait for further arguments and started moving the barrel that was blocking the door. It was now or never.

"Jane!" At Reade's shout, Jane looked back at her teammate. He was worried...terrified...for her. "I got your cover," he reassured her. As if that had ever been in doubt. Jane just nodded before slipping out the door.

The force outside was overwhelming, but Jane did not focus on the numbers. All she had to do was take one man out at a time. There was cover that she could use as she did so and the militia appeared to be on the reckless side. She hit first one, then a second man as they left the protection of the trees to try to get a shot off at her. She was able to dash from the cabin to a tree, trying to determine who was next. And one volunteered, thank you very much. Of course, he had her pinned down while she reloaded, and he wasn't holding his fire. Bullets hit the tree that was offering her protection. He must be moving closer. She needed to time things perfectly to get him off her back.

Or, perhaps not. A shot suddenly came from deeper in the woods, but didn't strike near her at all. In fact, the gunfire at her back stopped. Poor aim and death by friendly fire or had back up finally arrived? Jane angled her head to peer off to her left. Zapata and Weller.

Everything clicked back into place for Jane. The creeping sense of suffocation that she had doggedly ignored up to now left her. The next breath she took practically sparkled through her system. She tried to stop her grin, fought it down as best as she could because - really - a shootout was no place for giddiness. At least she stopped the triumphant laughter that simmered in her chest.

Weller. WELLER!

And the team. Of course, the team.

"You okay?" Jane couldn't think of a more welcome sound in that moment than Kurt's voice.

"Yeah," she was probably breathless from the adrenaline pumping through her system because of the fire fight. Probably. "You?"

He didn't give her the words, only a jerk of his head that communicated so much to her. He and Zapata were fine. They had been worried, and the team wasn't out of the woods yet - literally.

The three team members approached the ranger's station. Weller signaled to Zapata to circle around back while he and Jane continued towards the door. "Reade," Weller shouted. "Reade!"

There was a pause before Jane heard Reade answer. "Yeah?" Reade was okay, too. Better and better.

"Guerrero alive?" Kurt wanted verification.

"Well, damn," Reade complained. "I thought you were worried about me for a second. But yeah, he's alive. We're coming out."

"Good," Weller and Jane maintained a vigilant eye on the surrounding wilderness as Reade came out, guiding Guerrero before him.

"Weller!" Zapata called out from around the corner, panic in her voice. Then she appeared in the clutches of a militiaman who - it seemed - had few more brain cells than the others. He had obviously lay in wait for a victim. When Tash had gone around back, he'd ambushed her.

"Drop all your guns," the man ordered, "and give me Guerrero!"

"I can't do that." Weller stated implacably.

"I will kill her, right now!" The unsurprising threat came in return.

"I don't have a shot," Jane murmured to Weller. Her eyes shifted from Tasha and the gunman to Weller, waiting for any chance, any opening to drop the guy before he made good on his threat.

"Neither do I," Kurt muttered back.

"Hand him over, or she's gonna die!"

"Just kill her already!" Guerrero ordered his man.

"Shut UP!" Reade snapped. "You're not going anywhere."

"Your best option is to drop that gun." Weller's voice was calm. Steady. He sounded like he could negotiate all day long.

Given his stubborn nature, Jane suspected that he could, too.

"No one else has to die." Kurt assured the man. Even as he said it, a shot rang out. The man dropped and Zapata was free.

It was Sheriff Bolton. He first checked the downed man to make sure that he wasn't still a threat. Turning back to the team, he instructed Weller, "you need to get him out of Draclyn."

"This is NOT what I pay you for!" Guerrero was practically frothing at the mouth. It looked like he had reason to doubt any promise of loyalty - especially the kind that was purchased.

"Too many of us have died today," Bolton retorted. "We're not your militia any more." He stood toe to toe with the criminal. "You took advantage of us. 'You're either with them or against them,'" he said. "Well, we're not with you any more."

"You understand this is all over for you, Sheriff," Weller broke in. Saving Zapata's life wasn't enough to wipe the slate clean. "This place is about to be swarmed with F.B.I." And Kurt couldn't...or wouldn't do anything to protect the man in any meaningful way.

"I know." Bolton didn't look surprised. "But more men are on their way. I'll hold them off as best I can. You have to leave now." He insisted.

"Like we haven't been trying to do that all day." Zapata sounded a bit rattled.

"We haven't tried the helicopter." Reade suggested. Kurt's confused glance and Zapata's incredulous, "helicopter?" made him smirk slightly. "This way."

They raced through the woods to the helicopter. Everyone, save Weller, climbed aboard. While Weller provided cover, Jane found herself in the middle of her worst nightmare. It was her task, now, to save the team by flying this thing and she didn't have the first damn idea as to how.

"I don't know what to do," she protested, even as she studied the dials, the levers, the buttons.

She tried a few as Reade attempted to encourage her. "C'mon, you got us this far. Why else would it be here."

A point, yes, but not specifically helpful.

"They're getting closer," Zapata announced. "They're getting closer!"

"C'mon, Jane." Weller finally chimed in. "If you can fly this thing, take off, NOW!"

"Okay," she breathed. She tried not to think of anything, just to reach out and let muscle memory take over. The rotors started spinning - a beautiful sound. Things started to make more sense in Jane's head and her hands were moving without completely conscious thought. Weller finally hopped on board as the helicopter lifted off the ground. There were gun shots from the militiamen who had finally caught up, and Zapata returned fire.

They flew higher, leaving the enemy on the ground far below. Jane felt the weight of the team's dependence on her steady and shift to a better sense of balance on her shoulders, the creeping panic was receding. Complete the mission. Protect her team. The simple rules centered her again as they flew away from Draclyn.

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you for reading. Since this is a retelling of S1E7, I know it isn't anything extraordinary. I'm hoping that, as I continue to practice writing fiction, I'll slowly ease off of using the crutch relying on episodes.
> 
> Kurt is next. His chapter will include the conversation he and Jane have on the plane trip home. Who knows what else I'll include. And...perhaps...I should push myself to write another chapter after that - one that caps the episode, but has more original content than the other chapters.
> 
> And, one final note - I hope that you enjoy what I have written. It isn't anything at all, but it does fill the time between new episodes (will I have write - and post - more often during the hiatus? Man, am I dreading not having new episodes!). Everyone has been so kind to encourage me, and I want to offer my sincere thanks. I don't want to let you down...wait a minute! Jane! What have you been teaching me?!


End file.
